


The Secrets That You Keep

by MaggieMaybe160



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Allergies, Angst, Crying Castiel (Supernatural), Crying Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Has Allergies, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Secrets, Teen Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 23:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17877038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaybe160/pseuds/MaggieMaybe160
Summary: Dean Winchester is allergic to shellfish.





	The Secrets That You Keep

Dean stares at the dish that is in front of him. Sam had decided to try his hand at cooking and it doesn’t look half bad, but Dean had been the family cook for more reasons than just that he was older. He has to know what is in his food. 

 

Dean was thirteen the day he found out he was allergic to shellfish. The school cafeteria had been serving shrimp poppers and after just one, his mouth had begun to feel a little funny. It only took two minutes for his throat to close and for him to hit the pavement of the schoolyard. He had been picked up from school by an ambulance, though he wasn’t conscious for it. His dad’s phone was called, but he was too busy on his hunting trip to bother picking up when it was no doubt about his son picking a fight. He had no one else. 

He had woken up in the emergency room with an IV in his arm and an oxygen mask over his face. A nice doctor with a kind voice asked him a series of questions after changing his mask out for a nasal cannula. He was informed that he had a severe allergy to shellfish. It was all explained: what kind of foods to stay away from, what an epipen was if he could afford it, and to inform people around him so that he could stay safe. Then, he was asked to call his dad. 

“I can do that,” Dean said. He was left alone in the room with the phone. He made a show of picking up the phone and dialing numbers. As soon as they were gone, he got out of his bed, pulling out the IV carefully, and pulled on his clothes. 

He checked around the door to make sure no one was looking and he left the emergency room. Dean made his way to the bus stop and got on, still feeling weak and extremely tired. His throat was clear, but his body ached. He stepped off the bus in front of Sammy’s elementary school. He had a half hour before school was let out. 

“Can I help you?” The receptionist asked as Dean walked into the front office. 

“I’m just here to pick up my brother. Can I wait here?” He was too tired to fight her right now or wait outside on the lawn like he normally did. She gave him an odd look and nodded, her lips pursed making a sour face. 

He half fell, half sat into a chair and rested his head in his hands, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was allergic to shellfish and no one in the world knew. 

 

Dean was fourteen when he stole his first epipen from a classmate at school. It had been easy, what with the thing just there in the open backpack between Dean’s desk and the other kid’s. Dean didn’t even know his name. He’d only been at this school for a week. 

He took the pen without anyone noticing and shoved it into his own backpack that was empty save for the old paperback copy of Slaughterhouse Five that he was reading. He let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, suddenly feeling safer for having the epipen in his bag. 

“We’re leaving,” John said, waking his sons in the middle of the night. 

“We’ve only been here a week,” Dean protested as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looking through the dark to find his dad packing. 

“Don’t argue, Dean,” John ordered. Dean’s spine snapped straight at the command and he bit his tongue to keep from saying  _ Yes, sir! _

“Come on, Sammy. Wake up.” Dean nudged his baby brother. Sam blinked blearily and sat up. Dean got out of their shared bed and made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth before packing the toothbrushes. 

“God dammit, Dean!” John swore in the next room. Dean froze and peeked out of the bathroom. His dad was holding his backpack and the epipen. “Do you know how dangerous it is to steal this? Someone could die because of you.” 

Yes, Dean knew how dangerous it was to not have one. He felt his heart slamming in his chest, not daring to look away from the one item that he desperately needed in his life… just in case. He kept his mouth shut as his father yelled at him about how their job was  _ saving _ people, not stealing their much needed emergency medication. 

When they piled into the car, the epipen didn’t follow. Instead, it was left behind in the dingy motel room that had been booked under a false name. He knew, as they drove away, that he would never be able to have one ever again. 

No one knew about his allergy and he avoided the foods without raising alarm by saying he didn’t like seafood. John rolled his eyes, but accepted it. Sam never said a word. No one asked questions and Dean never had to explain himself. 

The only person who ever caught it was Bela Talbot, who had faked a fainting spell in his arms as he made sure the food he was about to eat was crabless. She’d never mentioned it, and for that he was thankful. He wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t know that she was the only other person who knew that he had a food allergy, or if she was being decent to him for some unknown reason. His secret died with her when the hellhounds tore her apart, dragging her down.

 

Now, Dean sits in the bunker, looking at his food, waiting for Sam to join him. Sam takes his seat and grins, picking up his fork and pausing when he notices Dean isn’t digging in. 

“What’s in this?” Dean asks, trying to make his voice sound like he’s mock skeptical as not to raise suspicion. 

“Just eat it. I’m not going to poison you,” Sam laughs and takes his first bite. Dean takes a breath and swallows the last words with his first bite. 

He stands up and closes his eyes as the strange tingling in his mouth starts. He doesn’t have a lot of time. He shouldn’t have eaten it. 

“Dean?”

“Here’s the keys. I need you to drive me to the hospital.” Dean drops the keys onto the table as he feels his throat getting tighter. 

“De-”

“Tell them I’m allergic to shellfish,” Dean gasps. 

“You’re not, though. Are you?” Panic rises in Sam’s voice, but Dean is out of air. His knees go out from under him and his head strikes the table as he falls. 

Sam picks up his brother, praying to Castiel aloud though they haven’t seen him in weeks. Blood is already dripping from Dean’s head and Sam is sure he isn’t breathing.

“Cas, please, I know your bond or whatever is with Dean. This is for him. I need you. He needs you. The closest hospital is over a half hour away and Dean’s not breathing. Cas, help.” Sam grunts as he runs through the bunker with his dead-weight brother in his arms. He tries not to think as he puts Dean into the backseat of the Impala. 

“My brother is allergic to shellfish,” Sam says as he drags Dean into the Emergency Room. A flock of nurses surround him and someone brings a gurney. Sam is shoved out of the way as Dean is given an IV and a tube is stuck down his throat. 

He had managed to make the thirty five minute drive in fifteen minutes, but he didn’t know if it was enough time. Dean is wheeled away from him and finally, Sam breathes out a shaking breath. 

A nurse brings him a clipboard of questions and tells Sam that they don’t know when he asks if Dean’s going to be okay. He’s handed a pen and asked to answer the questions. Yesterday, he could have filled out a paper like this without problems. Now, he wonders how much Dean had hidden. He hadn’t even known his brother had a severe food allergy.

 

“Cas, please,” Sam’s voice fills Castiel’s head. “I know your bond or whatever is with Dean. This is for him.” Cas’ heart stops in his chest. “I need you. He needs you. The closest hospital is over a half hour away and Dean’s not breathing.” 

Cas smashes into the bunker, too worried and filled with dread to focus on an easy landing. The kitchen is empty. The table has two plates of food and a smear of blood on the edge. The floor has a small puddle of blood to match. 

“No. Dean!” Cas yells. 

Cas is pulling on his white doctor’s coat when Dean is rushed through the doors. He turns and sees his hunter with someone bagging air into his lungs and someone else pressing a bandage to his head. They are running and Cas follows. 

“He’s not responding!” someone yells and Cas tries to break through the throng of healthcare professionals. If he can touch Dean, he can save him. 

A monitor is hooked up and it immediately starts alarming. 

“He’s gone too long without air.”

“Is he still bleeding?”

“Get me a ventilator!” 

“IV is in!” 

“Dean,” Cas breathes.   
“He’s crashing!”

Cas pushes harder and is only met with more resistance. Someone drags him and a few other people away from Dean’s bed as his shirt is cut away from his body and a cart with paddles is brought in. 

“Charging! Clear!” 

Cas watches, his heart screaming as Dean is shocked with no result. The shock comes again. Cas can’t hold himself back. He shoves the others out of his way with strength that belongs only to an angel. They fall to the floor as he rushes to Dean, shoving the paddles and the others away. He holds Dean’s face in his hands and realizes he’s crying as he tries to heal his hunter. 

“Dean!” Cas screams and the cart with the paddles burst, the box holding the electricity bursting from Cas’ energy. 

 

Sam drops the clipboard as the lights flicker. He hears Cas, though it’s nothing he’s ever heard from Cas before. He’s sobbing. “Dean!” 

The lights burst and Sam covers his head with his arms. He finds himself running as the nurses try to stop him, but nothing can stop him. He’s sure he’s listening to Castiel call time of death and the cause was his cooking. 

He stops short in the doorway. Every medical professional that had been around Dean when they’d taken him away are on the floor. Some of them are broken, others passed out. Standing over Dean is Cas. His hands are pressed to either side of Dean’s face and his forehead is touching Dean’s. His tears fall onto Dean’s cheeks as he sobs. 

“He’s allergic to shellfish,” Sam manages to say. It’s the only thing he had been told to say and now he can’t find any other words. He feels cold and numb. 

“Dean.” Cas says his name like a whispered love story and a promise. He sounds broken and lost. Sam feels himself start to cry. 


End file.
